CHAPTER 1
“Give me your youngest daughter, and I will consider your debt paid,” Lord Montague declared, his voice smooth as polished obsidian, slicing through the heavy air of Lempster Estate.
Camelia froze in the shadowed corridor, and fought the urge to brush aside a loose curl as she tiptoed to the library door.
At five-and-twenty, the second daughter of the Earl of Lempster bore the weight of her family’s honor, and that burden had been feeling heavier than ever. When she had overheard Lord Montague’s arrival, a sense of dread had filled her gut. And now his words confirmed her suspicion.
He must be demanding to marry Margaret.
Margaret, the youngest of the three sisters, was still unseasoned in judgment, though her tongue was by far the sharpest. She alone remained a true choice for any gentleman seeking adebutante, for Camelia was already shunned as a spinster, and their eldest sister, Iris, had recently been widowed.
“Y-You surely cannot mean this?” her father stammered, his voice thin with unease. “My daughters… they are not meant to be bartered.”
“How quaint, Lord Lempster,” Lord Montague responded dryly. “You speak honorably, yet your debts choke you like a noose. Do you think the ton will forgive an earl who cannot pay his creditors? Your name will be mud and your daughters unmarriageable.”
Camelia’s breath caught. She glanced at her sisters, who stood nearby, their faces pale and beautiful in the weak sunlight. Iris clutched her shawl tightly, her dark eyes wide with fear, while young Margaret stood with her chin tilted defiantly, though her hands trembled.
Camelia’s gaze lingered on them as they both turned to her with curious looks.
I must protect them all.
She had to do something because she was sure that there was a sinister motive behind Lord Montague’s demand. Ever since their mother’s passing, her sisters had turned to her for counsel in every trial, and she had never failed them.
I cannot fail them now.
“Never!” The Earl’s voice rose to an unfamiliar pitch.
Her father had rarely expressed anger; it was a rare sight to behold.
“I would sooner see us all in the poorhouse than sacrifice my child for my own sins.”
Camelia held her breath in fear of Lord Montague’s reaction to her father’s defiance, but to her surprise, Lord Montague laughed, the sound low and mocking. It carried through the slightly ajar library door. She noticed her sisters lightly stepping towards her and the commotion.
“Come now, Lord Lempster. Let us not pretend. Your debts tower higher than your pride. One daughter—your youngest, Lady Margaret—will suffice to preserve your name and your estate. Refuse, and ruin shall claim you all. Thetonspares no mercy for a bankrupt earl.”
How dare he threaten my father?
“You speak of ruin as though it were nothing.” The Earl’s voice broke. “It is true, you hold my notes, but surely… surely you would not go so far as to claim one of my daughters. I cannot believe you would.”
Camelia could bear no more. She pushed the door open and strode into the library ignoring the shuffle of her sisters footsteps behind her. Her honey-colored curls bounced aroundas she commanded the room’s attention. The veins at her neck pulsated with fury when she fixed her eyes on Lord Montague, who stood by the fireplace with a glass of her father’s finest brandy in hand.
“Lord Montague.” Her voice trembled, but she quickly steadied it. She stepped closer, her gaze lifted to the towering man. “If a daughter is required, then let it be me. I am not the eldest or the youngest, and I would rather be chosen to pay my father’s debts.”
She heard a low gasp behind her and turned to see her sisters watching her.
“Camelia, no.” Her father rose from his chair, his face ashen. “I will not permit any of my daughters to be bartered like?—”
“Oh, Lord Lempster, do not be so hasty,” Lord Montague cut him off with a smirk. “Your daughter’s offer is intriguing, I’ll give her that, but I desire no spinster.”
Camelia flinched at the insult.
Lord Montague’s gaze shifted to Margaret, who was scowling at him from the doorway. “Lady Margaret’s fire intrigues me. Such a spirited creature would make a fine… companion.”
“Companion?” Margaret spat, stepping in front of Iris, who grabbed her arm to stop her. “You mean a victim! You will notlay a finger on me, Lord Montague! Name your price in coin, not my flesh!”
“Margaret! Hold your tongue!” Camelia warned.
Margaret pressed her lips together, her glare unwavering as she faced Lord Montague. A heavy silence settled over the room, broken only by his abrupt bark of laughter. Without so much as a glance at her, he turned his attention back to the Earl.
